In the wake of the 9/11 attacks and the Iraq intervention,
most of the national security components of the US government have had somemostly
overdueintrospective moments. Such reviews can only be considered healthy. For as
Sun Tzu, the Chinese military and intelligence theorist, said, Know the enemy and
know yourself; in a hundred battles you will never be in peril.1 The
fact is, however, that many of those governmental components did not necessarily like what
they saw looking back at them from the mirror. This result was particularly true of the
intelligence community, which found its own self-identity issues staring back with an
unnerving intensity.

To be blunt, the
intelligence community, which for the purposes of this article refers mainly to the
analytic component, still does not know itself. That is to say, 60-plus years
after its creation as a communitymaking the point that this identity
crisis is not solely the product of post-9/11 and Iraq soul-searchingAmericas
intelligence analysts still cannot agree on an answer to that most fundamental question of
analytic identity: What exactly is intelligence analysis?

Quite possibly, this
analytic identity crisis has been summarized best in writing by the intelligence community
itself. In 2005, the Central Intelligence Agencys Center for the Study of
Intelligence published an unclassified ethnographic study of the communitys analytic
component which, based on hundreds of interviews with analysts and countless hours
watching them work, found that heterogeneous descriptions and definitions of
intelligence analysis as a profes-

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sional discipline
were consistent findings. Consequently, the study went on to conclude, there still
needs to be a clear articulation and dissemination of the identity and epistemology
of intelligence analysis.2

Art or
Science?

In terms of overall
analytic identity, perhaps no question is more fundamental or divisive than the question
of whether intelligence analysis is art or science. On one side of this debate is the
analysis as science school of thought whose adherents favor a less
individualistic or idiosyncratic and more rigorous approach to analysis. On
the other side of the divide are the analysis as art adherents who argue for
an analytic approach that places greater value on experience, intuition, and
feel versus some artificially sterile scientific approach.

For the science
adherents, perhaps the most persuasive outlet so far has been the 2005 CIA study which
meticulously examined not only how the community came to perceive analysis as art, but
also what intelligence agencies might do to make it more of a science. That study argues
that the notion of analysis as art is deeply rooted in the concept of tradecraft, which is
defined as practiced skill in a trade or art. It elaborates by explaining that
in interviews, analysts, managers, instructors, and academic researchers employed
the word tradecraft as a catchall for the often-idiosyncratic methods and
techniques required to perform analysis. Moreover, the study asserts that while the
term might be appropriate for describing the activities of the operational side of the
intelligence community, the analytic communitys adoption of the concept to
describe analysis and analytic methods is not [appropriate]. The obvious logical flaw with
adopting the idea of tradecraft as a standard of practice for analytic methodology is
that, ultimately, analysis is neither craft nor art. To the contrary, the study
contends that analysis isor at least should bepart of a scientific
process.3

The CIA study is not
alone in its assessment. Putting a vivid exclamation point on the debate, an article in
the journal Survival asserts that putative CIA tradecraft . . . promotes the
cultivation of a kind of Pinball Wizard, the deaf, dumb, and blind kid from
the rock opera Tommy, who instinctively avoids distractions, plays by intuition,
and always achieves success. The article goes on to argue that boosting
analytical effectiveness

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requires more than
the serendipitous cultivation of analytical wizards, whose skills and methods are rarely
if ever subjected to testing, validation, and broader organizational application.4

Clearly disturbed by
this unscientific approach to analysis, the CIA study argues that intelligence
analysis can be reconstructed in the context of a scientific method, which is merely an
articulated formal process by which scientists, collectively and over time, endeavor to
put together a reliable, consistent, and nonarbitrary representation of some
phenomena. Moreover, the study asserts that the data collected through both
interviews and observation indicated that there were, in fact, general methods that could
be formalized and that this process would then lead to the development of intelligence
analysis as a scientific discipline. That said, however, the study also notes that
the idea that intelligence analysis is a collection of scientific methods encounters
some resistance in the intelligence community.5

Adherents of the
analysis as art school of thought have also been active in the debate. In one
notable The New York Times op-ed that was widely circulated and discussed within
the intelligence community, it was argued that in a misguided effort to be scientific, the
intelligence communityas exemplified by the CIAhas over-reached into the realm
of scientism. More specifically, the article argued that this scientism emerged from a
fashionable post-war belief that human affairs could be understood scientifically,
and that the social sciences could come to resemble hard sciences like physics. It
went on to lament that even some five decades later, one can still sense how this
scientism has factored out all those insights that may be the product of an
individuals intuition and imagination.6 It is important to recognize that The New York Times is not
alone in its lament. A Washington Times column that also received extensive
distribution and discussion in the intelligence community argued that producing
useful, useable intelligence is an art . . . a grand exercise in data interpretation,
pattern recognition, and intuition.7

Interestingly,
unlike the science adherents who seem almost uniformly inclined to blame the intelligence
community itself, the art adherents appear more divided on who is to blame. For instance,
some seem inclined to place the blame for false scientism on the community,
especially via the pernicious influence of the CIAs father of analysis,
Sherman Kent. Others, however, apparently feel that policymakers must bear much
responsibility. Again, the column in The Washington Times asserted that [i]t
seems very few leaders understand that [intelligence is an artnot science].8
Consequently, this line of thinking goes, policymakers expect and demand analyses
characterized by a degree of precision and certainty that only a science could provide.

Undoubtedly, the
issue of blame is debatable. What is not debatable is the fact that the notion of
analysis as art, like the notion of analysis as sci-

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ence, meets
considerable resistance from the ranks of analysts themselves. For evidence of this, one
need only read the comments engendered by the posting of The New York Times op-ed
on one internal analyst discussion board: Gibberish, A rant,
[The author] just doesnt understand what we do.

Alloying
Analysis

Notwithstanding the
ambivalence of intelligence analysts, both of these perspectives have real merit. To be
fair, most adherents of a particular perspective will accept that the question is not a
zero-sum, all-or-nothing issue. Rather, what they are really advocating is an analytic
approach thatif not dominated by their preferred perspectiveat least tempers
the perceived excesses of the other. In other words, most advocates of a particular
perspective will usually acknowledge, if only begrudgingly, that intelligence analysis is
truly a matter of complements, with the real question being one of relative weight.

The necessity for
such a balanced perspective was perhaps most articulately acknowledged by the presidential
commission investigating intelligence related to Iraqi weapons of mass destruction.
Interestingly, however, rather than lament an imbalance in the proportion of art to
science in community analyses of Iraq, the commission instead regretted the fundamentally
poor application of each perspective. Thus, with regard to the scientific schools
argument for a more formalized and rigorous analytic process, the commissions report
agreed when it found the (2002 Iraq National Intelligence Estimate [NIE])
fully met the standards for analysis that the community had set for itself. That is the
problem. On the other hand, however, the commissions report also agreed with
the art advocates when it concluded that the 2002 NIE displayed a lack of
imagination that precluded the asking of the questions that could have led the
intelligence community closer to the truth.9 In sum,
according to the commission, the problem was not so much an imbalance of perspectives but
an across-the-board deficiency in practice.

Given this finding,
it is clearly necessary for the analytic community to find a new conceptual model, one
that raises the level by which both artistic and scientific approaches are applied while
simultaneously blending them into a sort of complementary alloy. Ideally, this
new model would integrate art and science and yet forsake high art and hard science
pretensions. Admittedly, this formula may prove a difficult mix to create. Only by
formulating it, however, will the intelligence community find the analytical
sweet-spot that resides somewhere between the prevailing perceptions, which
are antagonistic (art or science) on the one hand and alchemic (wizardry and
scientism) on the other.

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A Better Model

One such alloyed
model that has been proposed is a medical one, since intelligence analysis and medical
diagnosis are similar in many ways.10 For example, both intelligence analysts
and medical doctors are confronted with problem setsthe international system and
living systems respectively that are highly dynamic and uncertain. Analysts and
doctors also follow cyclical procedures that while differing in specific terminology
(collection versus testing; analysis versus diagnosis; and dissemination versus
prognosis), have details that are fundamentally similar. For the purposes of this article,
however, perhaps the greatest similarity is that both intelligence analysis and
medicinedone well require their practitioners to blend art and science.

At present, the
medical community appears much more accepting of this need for balance than the
intelligence community. There is almost universal acceptance amongst doctors, whether
general practitioner or specialist, that the practice of medicine is both art and science.
One practicing physician who also is a student of medical intelligence has noted,
While much of clinical medicine is firmly grounded in basic science research, there
is a substantial practical component to medical practice which cannot be found in any
textbook, and is instead passed down from attending physicians to resident physicians to
medical students.11 This, of course, is not to say that the medical community does not
continue to fight over thisit doesas the increasingly vocal
evidence-based movement, which was originally known as the
science-based movement, makes abundantly clear. That fight, however, is
largely one about the relative weighting each approach should getnot the need for a
blend in the first place.

In contrast, the
intelligence community continues to wrestle with a fundamental need for both perspectives,
never mind what the proper balance between them should be. For evidence of that
perspective think back to the resistance from analysts to both the analysis as
art and analysis as science arguments presented earlier in this article.
If that is not deemed sufficient evidence, one might consider the extreme swings in
managerial emphasis between the imperative for generalists (with a synthetic
macro-perspective that values the ability to connect the proverbial dots) and
the imperative for experts (with a more analytic micro-perspective that values mastery of
a specific account)that periodically sweep across the analytic
community. Ideally, the intelligence community would view these unique perspectives in a
highly complementary light, much as the medical community has with its embrace of both the
general practitioner and the specialist. Alas, the intelligence
communityparticularly the line analysts, when compared to the analytical
methodologistscontinues to bicker over the need for a mixed approach that precludes
the discussion from addressing the real issue of the proper mixture.

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This is where the
adoption of a medical model could really help the intelligence community. The need for an
appropriate art and science blend, at least in medicine, is a notion that resonates
strongly, if unconsciously, with most peopleincluding intelligence analysts. After
all, most people when choosing a doctor tend to look for one who is not only familiar with
the basic science, but is also in possession of the practical
component that comes with experience and intuition. Consequently, by modeling the
practice of intelligence analysis on the practice of medicine it may be possible to use
that unconscious resonance as a means of fostering a similar desire for a balance of art
and science amongst analysts.

Finding the
Right Words

Recognition of the
powerful analogy between medicine and intelligence analysis is not new. Historian Walter
Laqueur wrote about it more than 20 years ago, and it has been a thin but enduring theme
in the literature of intelligence ever since.12 What has not
been sufficiently addressed in that literature is the need for more than just a useful
analogy. More specifically, what is now required is much more attention on the linguistic
aspects of the analogy, the metaphors.

At a fundamental
level metaphors are models.13 Which is to say, they are much more than
mere rhetorical flourisha matter of extraordinary rather than ordinary
language.14 Rather, our conceptual system
[i.e., the way one defines everyday reality] is largely metaphorical.15 Consequently, metaphors fundamentally structure how
we perceive, how we think, and what we do.16

Given this fact that
the metaphors analysts use directly reflect and reinforce their thinking, metaphors are
key focal points in any effort to examine analytic mindsets and subsequently formulate a
cohesive analytic identity. This is a point that while not entirely lost on the
intelligence communitylike the need for an art and science balanceis more
readily recognized by the analytic methodologists rather than the line analysts. For
evidence of this, one need only consult the CIA study on analytic culturewritten by
an anthropologist, not an analystwhich noted that language is a key variable
in anthropology and often reveals a great deal about the cognition and culture of a
community of interest. The adoption by members of the analytic community of an
inappropriate [operational] term [i.e., tradecraft] for the processes and methods employed
in their professional lives obfuscates and complicates the reality of their work.17

Despite this
acknowledgement, the fact remains that the predominant linguistic metaphor for
intelligence analysis, like that for the larger national security debate of which it is a
part, is essentially an unrealistic one. That is to say, it is a mechanical metaphor built
upon such terms and concepts as tension, inertia, momentum, leverage, and trajectory that
unrealistically

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portray the
international system as a sort of machine that behaves linearly: is fully understandable,
predictable, and certain. The truth, however, is that the international system is simply
not a machine. Rather, it is an organism in that it is made up of living
beings (people, states, etc.) that learn, change, and adapt to changing circumstances
which machines, of course, do not.

To accurately
describe and think about such an organism in a way that captures, or at least accepts, the
uncertainty that is inherent in its behavior, it is necessary to employ a more realistic
nonlinear metaphor. In this case, that would mean a biological one, or more specifically a
medical oneusing terms such as susceptibility, symptomatic, ripeness, side effects,
etc.that is well-suited to describing an organic problem set. In sum, if
intelligence analysts are to start thinking more biologically than mechanically, they need
to start communicating more like physicians than the physicists they have long tended to
mimic.

Ultimately, it is
vitally important that the intelligence community, when considering language, begin
to focus on the metaphorical aspects vice the stylistic aspects that it has traditionally
tended to emphasize. In particular, for too long when the intelligence community has
talked about precision of language it has really meant concisionthe quest to say
things with even fewer words and more white space. In contrast, what the
intelligence community truly needs to appreciate is that precision of language needs to be
about using language, the actual words (even if it means more of them) that accurately
reflect and reinforce how it conceptualizes its subject matter and, by extension, itself.

A Hard Pill to
Swallow

For the intelligence
community, the linear mechanical metaphor remains the dominant linguistic and consequently
mental model; it is the default setting. This is not surprising considering the powerful
historical experiences that have foisted it upon the community. First, and at a most
general level, American culturerooted as it is in western philosophical and
intellectual traditionremains saddled with the heavy weight of Newtonianism. Sir
Isaac Newtons legacyone of pure science overflowing into alchemy (wizardry and
scientism)continues to fundamentally shape prevailing western perspectives of the
universe and how it works.18 Newton may have credited his extraordinary vision to his
standing on the shoulders of the scientific giants who preceded him, but the
West has never managed to climb out from under him. Nowhere is this more manifestly
evident than in the way American intelligence analysts talk, write, and think about the
world.

At a second, more
community-specific level, it is important to understand that the unified
intelligence communitys formative experience was the relatively linear Cold War. As
one former professor at the National War College noted, the Cold War was essentially a
two-body problem and

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two-body
problems lie generally in the linear to mildly nonlinear range. In other words, the Cold
War marked by the interaction of two world powers habituated participants to an
essentially linear environment.19 In turn, this history contributes to one
of the communitys most vexing post-Cold War problems: how to provide adequate
numbers of mentors versed in nonlinear thinking for the legions of new analysts when the
pool of potential mentors is populated by senior analysts comfortable with highly linear
perspectives.

Finally, if one adds
to this mix the linear scientism exemplified by Sherman Kent, it is easy to see how the
lexicon of linear reductionismand the corresponding mindset that it, again, reflects
and reinforcesis now so infused into the US national security/intelligence
discussion so as to seem beyond question. Indeed, it is rather rare to read an American
article on foreign affairs, international relations, or national securitynot just
intelligence analysesthat does not employ mechanical terminology. Consequently,
assertions that such terminology is now somehow unsuitable are inevitably met by an almost
reflexive resistance.

Aligning
Capabilities and Expectations

Given how thoroughly
infused the mechanical metaphor is in the US national security and intelligence dialogue,
the adoption of a new metaphor and commensurate mindset that accepts uncertainty cannot be
done by the intelligence community in a vacuum. Rather, it will require the complicity and
cooperation of the communitys beneficiaries and benefactors (i.e., policymakers and
the public) whose unrealistic expectations are also rooted in a linear metaphor/mindset.
Consequently, any genuine effort in this vein will require a conscious process of
education aimed at bringing expectations of policymakers, the general public, and the
intelligence community into accordance. In particular, all concerned parties need to come
to a mutual understanding that it is simply impossible to expect the intelligence
community to predict the behavior of nonlinear systems with certainty and precision,
especially over long periods of time. Rather, what should be expected from the community
are better (allowing for uncertainty) models for understanding and anticipatingbut
not predictingthe potential behavior of the complex systems which it is tasked to
watch. Presumably, policymakers should find significant value in this perspective. After
all, as noted economist and complex systems theory pioneer Brian Arthur observed, An
awful lot of policymaking has to do with finding the appropriate metaphor. Conversely, bad
policymaking almost always involves finding inappropriate metaphors.20

Given that
observation, it is not unreasonable to think that the adoption of a more biological
metaphor might help in the changing of those expectations. For instance, no reasonable
person expects a physician to predict with precision

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and certainty the
details (time, severity, lingering impact, etc.) of a patients heart attack. Rather,
the physician is expected to help the patient identify risk-factors and conditions
(hereditary, eating habits, smoking, exercise, stress-level, cholesterol level, etc.) that
might potentially contribute to the onset of a heart attack (or other problems) and help
the patient formulate a proper mitigating response. In other words, the expectations are
understood to be limited. At a fundamental level, it is the language of medicine, with its
inherent uncertainty, that greatly contributes to those limited expectations. Moreover, it
directly contributes to a doctors credibility in its evident honesty and realism.
Analysts, then, need to understand this approach and be as linguistically true
with policymakers and the public asideallyphysicians are with their patients.
For only then will policymakers and the public come to accept that intelligence analysts
are not miracle workers and that they do have the proverbial crystal ball.

Of course, some will
argue that it is not the intelligence communitys place to educate the public (after
all, it is a secret community) or that it has no business telling policymakers (its
bosses) what they should and should not expect. Rather these voices argue that if
policymakers (and the public) want certainty, the community can provide itgiven
sufficient (greater) resources, new analytical tools, and such. Should the community adopt
such a mentality, however, and consequently do nothing to disabuse policymakers and the
public of their illusions then it will be surrendering itself to fate. For it is then
guaranteed that these unreasonable and unrealistic expectations will endure, that another
surprise will occur at some point, and that a new round of debilitating recriminations
will undoubtedly result. If a greater degree of openness, outreach, and candorwith
both its customers and itselfcan help the community avoid such a fate, it ought to
actively seek those opportunities. A better metaphor is a good place to start.

From
Ambivalence to Self-Awareness

Given what has been
argued here, it might be possible to answer the fundamental question of analytic identity
asked at the outset of this articleit is in fact both art and science. The fact that
the community remains ambivalent suggests it does not like that answer and suspects
customers will not like it either. After all, this is just the type of duality that is
often difficult for an individual, never mind an entire community, to effectively
reconcile. Nonetheless, there are several fundamental steps that the intelligence
communityagain, learning from the medical communitycould take in conjunction
with metaphor reform to better prepare the ground for growing a cohesive
analytic identity.

First, the community
can cultivate a more scientific and analytic perspective via an extensive training and
education regimen that is focused on critical thinking. The ability to think critically is
key to the provision of

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better
answers and requires analystsjust as it does medical interns and
residentsto master the systematic processing and analysis of evidence such as is
possible via so-called structured analytic methods (timeline-building,
weighted ranking, analysis of competing hypotheses, etc.). Also worth considering is a
requirement for analysts to explicate, for managers if not necessarily policymakers, the
particular methodological approaches and thought processes they employed in formulating
any particular analysis. Too often, analysts approach their jobs in an entirely ad hoc
fashionthe so-called pinball wizard approach, as it weresince most receive
minimal training in, and have minimal requirements to employ, structured analytic
techniques.

Additionally, the
complementary artistic (creative) aspect of analysis, actually synthesis, must also be
cultivated. One method for doing this would be to require senior analysts, or anyone
aspiring to such a title, to mentor junior analysts in how they develop hypotheses (ask
better questions) for testing. Structured synthetic methods, as distinct from structured
analytic methods, for doing this include scenario-development; brainstorming; modeling,
gaming, and simulation; and red-teaming. Unfortunately, mentorship also remains a highly
ad hoc community practice that needs to be both institutionalized and mandated. Quite
simply, it should be made an absolute promotion requirement for more experienced analysts
to systematically share their experience and intuitiontheir pattern-recognition and
synthetic thinking skillswith the burgeoning crop of junior analysts currently
flooding the analytical ranks. In turn, senior analysts will benefit from exposure to
fresh perspectives that they otherwise might never consider. In many ways this process
would mirror the medical communitys practice of having interns and residents learn
and work under the supervision of senior physicians.

Beyond this
complementary approach to the education of analysts, a similar approach to recruitment is
also crucial. More specifically, analytic recruitment should explicitly emphasize the
attraction of the critical, analytic, and scientific, as well as the creative, synthetic,
and artistic thinkers. Currently, the intelligence community appears to be more attuned to
attracting the former, which should not be surprising since the prevailing recruitment
terminology describes the job, like the problem sets, in almost exclusively analytic
terms. If the community sincerely desires to inject a greater measure of synthetic
capability into the analytical mix, it needs to use appropriate and accurate language to
convey that objective. In other words, perhaps it is time for the communitys human
capital components to begin recruiting with both analytic/specialist and
synthetic/practitioner aptitude and inclinations clearly in mind.

That last point
brings us back to the fundamental importance of accurate language and metaphors to the
analytic communitys effort to develop a cohesive analytic identityto
know itself. Again, the linguistic metaphors

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that one uses
directly, if subconsciously, reflect and reinforce the underlying thought. Consequently,
if the community continues to speak and write in exclusively analytic, reductionist,
linear, and mechanical terms it will continue to think almost exclusively in those terms
as well. Moreover, expectations will continue to unproductively focus on did the
intelligence community get it right versus did the intelligence community
usefully inform. In sum, the old saying that you are what you eat, drive, and
wear . . . is not quite true. The essential role that language plays in thinking
means that you are what you say. Actions do not always speak
louder than words . . . often it is the words that really do matter.

We conclude then by
coming full circle. It is worth noting that Sun Tzu went on to say, When you are
ignorant of the enemy but know yourself, your chances of winning or losing are equal. If
ignorant both of your enemy and of yourself, you are certain in every battle to be in
peril.21 Presumably, Sun Tzu left out the variation of knowing ones
enemy but not knowing oneself because he saw it for the impossibility that it is. This
implied admonition should be of particular concern to the intelligence community, whose
primary task is to help policymakers know others. For until the intelligence
community knows itself it will not be able to reliably fulfill that
fundamental mission.

9. Commission on the
Intelligence Capabilities of the United States Regarding Weapons of Mass Destruction, Report
to the President of the United States (Washington: The White House, 31 March 2005),
12-13.

11. Stephen Marrin,
Intelligence Analysis: Turning a Craft into a Profession (paper presented at
the International Conference on Intelligence Analysis, McLean, Va., 4 May 2005),
https://analysis.mitre.org/proceedings/Final_Papers_Files/97_Camera_Ready_Paper.pdf

12. Clemente and
Marrin, 707.

13. Thomas
Czerwinski, Coping with the Bounds: Speculations on Nonlinearity in Military Affairs
(Washington: National Defense University, 1998), 64.

14. Mark Johnson and
George Lakoff, Metaphors We Live By (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1980), 3.

15. Ibid.

16. Ibid.

17. Johnston, 18.

18.
Alchemy, Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alchemy.

19. Czerwinski,
9-10.

20. M. Mitchell
Waldrop, Complexity: The Emerging Science at the Edge of Order and Chaos (New York:
Simon and Schuster, 1992), 334.

21. Sun Tzu, 84.

Josh Kerbel is the Studies
Coordinator in the Lessons Learned Center, Office of the Director of National
Intelligence. Previously he was a senior intelligence analyst for the Navy and the Central
Intelligence Agency. The views expressed in this article are his own and do not imply
endorsement by the Office of the Director of National Intelligence or any other government
agency.